Revolutionary
by vinylcat
Summary: The Battle of Yorktown, 1781. The patriots have the British surrounded, all they are waiting for now is someone to surrender. [Short] [FrUK mention]


The rain poured down hard, thunder crashed, mingling with the sound of gunshot. Yorktown, October 1781. The patriot troops had the Brits surrounded. They were outnumbered. They would have no choice but to surrender if this battle continued. The French had them by water, the Americans by land.

A man pushed his way to the front of the patriot army—America himself—drenched in rain, rifle in hand. You'd mistake him for a simple farmer with the way he dressed, but oh, that's not the case. Alfred Jones, the United States of America, the most patriotic man in all of the 13 states. He was young, but he knew what he wanted and was going to get it.

He stood in front of his troops, facing the British army before them. "Haven't you had enough, England? Your army is down to a few thousand! There's no winning this battle! Surrender your sorry ass and we'll let you get ready for another!" From behind the British army came another man, physically knocking some of the exhausted soldiers down as he shoved his way forward. He was Arthur Kirkland, the Great British Empire. The likes of him were unmistakable, and the way he dressed was highly regal. Perfectly fit for the most powerful empire in the world.

"You're a big talker for a 'nation' of such inferior size!" Arthur sneered. "You have a population of thousands across all the colonies, and a makeshift army of farmers and their wives!" He laughed, putting his hands on his hips and strutting forward. "I will not surrender, dear Alfred. Not until I am sure I have destroyed every dream of independence in that little head of yours, or until you destroy the British Empire itself."

Alfred furrowed his brow and clenched his fists around his rifle. "Then that's what we'll do!" he shouted. "We'll keep fighting this war until you and your whole country have no more troops to send and no more money to hire Germans to fight your battles!"

Arthur glared at him, but began to laugh manically. "Do you hear what you're saying, child? What a ridiculous thought, such an imagination! To do that, you'd have to fight me a century! Then perhaps you could come close." Arthur waltzed over to a soldier, taking his gun. "Now," he began, taking aim Alfred, "we have a battle to finish. I see you've got Bonnefoy on your side. Dick move, kid. You know how I hate that man. Is the damn Spaniard going to show up too?" Alfred stared back, his jaw tight. He held his gun tighter, bringing it closer to his chest.

"You know, you were a lot cuter when you didn't have these crazy ideas and weak allies. Back when you were on my side. You used to detest Francis, too. Remember that?"

"Are you trying to bring your little lovers' spat with Francis into this now?" Alfred growled. Arthur stormed forward, clashing his bayonet into Alfred's rifle.

"Is that what you kids are calling the Seven Years' War these days?" Arthur cackled, though his face showed no amusement. He drove the bayonet into Alfred's rifle, getting up in his face. "I should have left you to fade off when you turned your harbor into a teapot."

"The way I understood it, I was your only source of income then," Alfred retorted. Another man broke from the crowd of Redcoats.

"Mr. Kirkland, sir, we...he's right...we need to—"

Shut your trap, Cornwallis!" Arthur snapped at him. General Cornwallis sprinted up to him and told him something very quietly. "What!?"

"I'm sorry sir, Parliament has said many times that it's for the best..."

"This is nonsense..." In that moment, Arthur was caught off guard. Alfred pushed his rifle forward with all his weight, throwing him to the ground. Arthur scrambled back us to his knees only to meet the end of Alfred' gun to his forehead. Arthur grunted. "Fine! Have it your way! We surrender, this battle and this war. But only because it's in Parliament's best interest..." Alfred held his aim a moment longer, studying Arthur's expression. Seeing no hint of smugness in his face, he dropped his aim and returned to his troops.

"Well," Alfred said, inspecting the scratch on the rifle's base, "I'll see you again for a treaty, then?" Arthur replied with a short nod as he got up to join his own troops. Cornwallis hollered something to them and they marched off.

Once they had marched a good distance away, the patriots cheered in victory. This was the end of the war, and the start of their freedom.


End file.
